


Push

by whatthefrickfrackpaddywack



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuddles, I'm Sorry, Masturbation, Resolved Sexual Tension, bottom mitch, no im not, we need more fic of the bois fite me, what the fuck is up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10674975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefrickfrackpaddywack/pseuds/whatthefrickfrackpaddywack
Summary: What they forgot to tell you in "Bisexuality 101" is that as soon as you realize you like dudes, you start realizing just how many dudes you've liked throughout your lifetime.It's torture.





	Push

**Author's Note:**

> I think the only person on this planet who loves Mitch more than me is @smokeplanet so I would like to formally apologize to your son for doing this (I love you mom your comic is awesome.)

 

What they forgot to tell you in "Bisexuality 101" is that as soon as you realize you like dudes, you start realizing just _how many_ dudes you've liked throughout your lifetime.

It's torture.

There was Ash Ketchum from Pokemon when he was five. That was a disturbing thing to remember. It was easily passed off as infatuation and childishness by Dean and Sue, seen more as Jonas's need for a role model as opposed to a schoolyard crush.

Then he watched "Singing In The Rain" for the first time, Gene Kelly in all his suit-and-tie glory bursting onto the screen in yellow raincoats and insane dance numbers. This time, he was the one backtracking and telling himself that the real reason his cheeks were flushed and his heart was pounding was because of the music. And Debbie Reynolds.

Not that Debbie Reynolds wasn't hot. Because she was.

And so was Gene Kelly.

Six grade rolled around with the introduction of a choir teacher named Mr. Bonomo, fresh out of college and with a passion that would flicker out faster than Jonas's motivation in gym class. He had glasses. That's really the only thing Jonas remembers about him.

He popped his first boner thinking about those glasses.

And that's the truly terrifying thing, because for the past six years he could've _sworn_ his first wood was for Princess Leia, but all of the sodden misinterpreted memories are flying to the surface of his brain, blaring red sirens screaming "GUESS WHO, BITCH."

And it was all because of Mitch Mc _freakin_ Muller.

Mitch. The freakishly tall mayonnaise looking white boy with the pedo-stache who used to throw spitballs at him in the cafeteria.

He turns over on his bed and screams into his pillow.

It’s three in the morning and he’s having a sexuality crisis over a guy who thought telekinesis was a _bird._

Which is insanely cute. And definitely NOT. HELPING.

This is the fifth time this week that he’s been trying to jumble all his thoughts together. He told himself that this would be his final attempt, and if he failed, he failed. No big bisexual revelation. No unrequited feelings for Mr. Mayonnaise who doodles dicks on all the desk chairs. No military academy or electroshock therapy if Dean found out.

Because Dean _wouldn’t_ find out.

Jonas groans again.

It’s not like Mitch was even attractive. Yeah, he was tall. He had...long arms.

Oh jeez.

What are you even supposed to _like_ on a guy?

Jonas pulled out his phone and brought up Carmen’s instagram. He liked her eyes. And her hair. And her hips. And her legs…

Crap. Stop getting sidetracked.

Jonas took a deep breath and tried to refocus. He’d chickened out too many times since the kiss-that-did-not-happen after the dinner fiasco. He had to approach this like it was a math problem.

A math problem that involved a giant crush on a mashed potato white boy who strings up people like him on the flagpole by their underwear.

Okay. Legs. He can work with this.

Mitch had legs.

Obviously.

That would make this situation slightly more complicated if he didn’t.

“It’s science, do it for science…” He mumbles. Gosh, this is embarrassing.

Mitch had legs for _days,_ long and lithe and boney. They were undeniably male, covered in fine blonde hair that you wouldn't notice unless you, like...touched it. Not that Jonas has ever just reached out and touched Mitch’s legs. That would be weird.

Oh gosh this whole situation is weird.

They were nice legs, he supposed. Not soft like Carmen, but hard and built, rough skin stretched over hidden muscle. His whole body was like that, tall and towering and physically capable of so much destruction. Jonas had seen him throw a desk through the window their freshmen year of highschool, back muscles rippling in an effort to stay balanced when the teacher’s stuff started tumbling out of the open drawers. The tendons of his neck had stuck out, blood vessels blatantly straining.

Jonas stiffened.

Okay. He looked kinda hot when he did that.

Very hot.

Sweat starts forming on the back of his neck.

Mitch’s neck is thin, ankles thin, wrists boney. It’s almost shocking that his gigantor hands don't just fly off his arm when he’s in the middle of talking, hands flapping around in excitement when he starts getting to the good part of a story. His thumbs are too big to type without a million words failing spellcheck, mashing keys together with giant fingers and smashing walls with bruised fists. Jonas doesn’t think he’s ever seen Mitch without his knuckles busted open. As soon as a scab is almost healed, he’ll show up to school with a fresh smattering of purple blossoms and blood dripping down his crooked nose.

Jonas catches his breath.

Okay. Yeah. That’s kinda hot.

So physically...he’s okay. There’s not exactly a lot of data to draw from, unless you count Ash Ketchum’s anime eyes. ( that was a dark hole better left unexplored.)

So what else? He liked Carmen for her curves, while Mitch was all angles and edges. His hip bones could _actually_ cut somebody. He liked Carmen’s hair, long and brown and wavy. Mitch’s was...interesting. Jonas supposes it looked pretty cool, even if the blond dye was fading. Straight and short and slicked back. It smelled nice though, in a cheap-gel-and-hotel-shampoo way. Carmen had gorgeous eyes, big and brown and covered in lashes. And Mitch…

Mitch’s eyes were kind of the same.

They were smaller, and the bags under them kinda drew your attention before you had a chance to notice the color. Brown. But lighter...amber, maybe? Like whiskey through a shotglass.

YEah the poetry stops now.

They were either dilated huge and black, or nothing but pinpricks. There was no inbetween. Mitch was alway one extreme or the other. Screaming or laughing. Fighting or sleeping. Throwing desks or smiling small and secret at the top of a roller coaster.

Sidney often likened him to a decapitated chicken in the looks department.

Which wasn’t actually wrong.

Jonas can’t understand it. Why is he only now noticing all theses stupid little things? After years of being terrified of the guy suddenly he knows what his hair looks like in the rain and remembers the smell of his shampoo.

He puts his face in his hands.

Mitch's hands. Huge, cracked knickles. Palms covered in calluses. He wonders what they would feel like touching his skin, grabbing roughly at pudge with thick handfuls. Because Mitch would be rough. He’d be frantic, impatient, impulsive like his personality. He’d get his fingers caught in Jonas’s curls, pull his hair too hard. Mouth along his neck, teeth leaving marks on something that’s never been touched before…

Oh.

Crap.

Jonas has to bite his lip to keep from groaning when he realizes that he’s hard in his pajama pants. He squeezes his eyes shut.

What would he kiss like? Would he knock teeth, go in too eager and end up splitting his lip? Would he even know what he was doing? Has Mitch kissed anybody before?

Would he go for hard and fast? Would it be deep and dirty? He’d tongue fuck him, nice and slow, drag his canines on Jonas’s bottom lip and bite down just hard enough to threaten. Lick over it in apology. Hands would tangle in his hair, cradle his face, tongue tilting deep and wet for a better angle. He’d push his thigh between Jonas’s legs, rub up hard against-

Wait. No.

Jonas pants against the pillow.

Mitch would straddle him, pull long legs up in Jonas’s lap, awkwardly folded but too eager to do much more than squirm. Nervous, but eager. Unexperienced, but more than willing to makeup for it with jerking movements and choked off breaths.

His eyes would be completely black. Pupils blown wide and soft and desperately moving against him, holding on and just rubbing off on Jonas’s hip, grabbing onto anything and everything he could reach with big hands and short nails. He’d leave blue and purple hickeys, teeth shaped dents littering Jonas’s thighs as he made his way down, in, smirk hovering over Jonas’s dick.

Jonas shoves a hand down the front of his boxers. Mitch would be too eager, take too much at once and choke. Thing’s would start flying around the room in his frustration, face red and concentrating as he tries again, going agonizingly slow until he’s down to the base, deep growling noises huffed through his nose.

He’d go too fast. Suck too hard. Jonas wouldn’t stand a chance.

Jonas bites down on his pillow and squirms, tugging his dick with the motions of imaginary Mitch’s mouth. Oh geez. Oh gosh. Oh _fuck…_

“Fuck,” Jonas pants out, groaning as soon as the word leaves his mouth. He doesn’t cuss; Never has, habit grilled into him after years under Dean’s roof. He’s never done a lot of things. Mitch seems to bring out all the parts of him that he’s never realized he had.

Which apparently includes the gay parts.

“Fuck.” He starts pulling harder, thinking of Mitch's teeth and tongue and stubble rubbing against the most sensitive parts of him. Fuck, what if he stuck his finger in his ass? Started thrusting in and out with the motions of his mouth, rubbing up hard inside of him, smirking slightly around Jonas’s dick every time he groaned…

No. Wait.

What if Mitch started fingering himself?

Moaned around the cock in his mouth with his fingers in his ass-

Jonas cums, biting down hard on his lip in an effort to keep quiet.

His breathing is heavy, heart racing, sweat sticking to the back of his neck. His legs wobble as he makes his way to the bathroom, washing off his hands and looking at the bags under his eyes in the mirror.

He’s so tired.

What if he swallowed?

Jonas smacks himself in the face. Maybe a bit too hard, because it makes a loud slapping noise and he winces.

"C'mon, Jonas..." He mutters, scrunching up his nose.

It's worse because it's not like Jonas just want's to suck his dick and be done with it. He's never even _thought_ about sucking someones dick before. Much less _Mitch Mueller's_ dick. And now he's gone and got himself a crush, and it's the only thing he can think about.

Why him.

But Jonas _knew_ why. It was because of impromptu treks through the woods, and stupid pranks in Science, and most likely illegal nights spent at abandoned amusement parks reanimating all the rides Jonas wanted to go on.

It was rude nicknames and bad puns and terrible phrases on T-shirts, mispronounced words and 2:00 a.m texting sessions spent fixing typos and grammar. It was brown roots peeking up through dyed hair. It was too loud laughs paired with too big grins.

Soft smiles and wide eyes at the top of a roller coaster.

He looks younger than he feels, too many freckles littering brown skin in a way that Mitch won’t stop pointing out.

That's kinda gay.

He's kinda gay.

But not... _all_ the way gay, he still likes girls. He thinks.

Okay. Not gay. Well, yes, gay, in an umbrella term kinda way, but maybe not all the way gay? Like...fifty percent gay?

That might be offensive. Crap.

Gay.

Queer.

...Bisexual.

He sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair.

It's been a week since Dean grounded him. A week since Mitch was at his house. A week since he started reinterpreting everything he ever thought he knew about himself.

A week since the kiss-that-did-not-happen.

His punishment ended yesterday. He's free after school for the first time since his world turned upside-down.

He needs to talk to Mitch.

 


End file.
